The Pianist
by zombiekyller
Summary: Her fingers would drift across the keys with such percision and excellence it was scary. She was a painter. The piano was a brush, that of the finest materials money could buy, and her voice was the paint, luxurious and thick yet sweet and soft. MelloXOC.
1. Chapter 1

The night began like any other; silent. Quiet and restful with only the slightest glimmers of sound, perfect conditions for falling asleep. The air was warm with the heat of a summer in Britain and it had been gently perfumed with the scent of laughter and happiness. In the faint, faint, distance, one could still hear the sound of college students giggling as they stepped out of their favorite pub booth or slid out of their chosen barstool. But the noises weren't loud enough to sidle through the sturdy wooden walls of the notorious Whammy orphanage.

So, as you could imagine, one would be surprised to hear music.

Yet, this wasn't normal music. It wasn't the sound of a million instruments coming together in symphonic harmony, nor the blare of an unknown child's sleepy voice. It was gorgeous. Almost sinfully so. This was the music of a singular piano and an expert player.

"Sometimes I feel I've got to.. Runaway..." And a voice even a Broadway singer would be jealous of sifted down the corridors of the pitch black orphanage.

"Tainted love... Tainted love..." It continued. Filling each tired orphan's head with joy and happiness while they slept. All except for one older boy. Who's mind had become bitter after years of second place and who's only purpose in life had become beating everyone else. He was displeased by the music. There was to be a test tomorrow and while his nemesis was sleeping soundly, he lay awake. All because of that dammed piano.

"Now I know I've got to... Run away... I've got to... Get away..." the voice, which sounded far better than that of an angel's pushed its way further into the boy's ears. He gripped at his long, golden, hair with a hand of black fingernails. Who was up at this time of night? Beside's him, of course. The boy glanced at his clock angrily. It was two in the morning and someone was pounding away at the piano, singing like a Lyrebird. This infuriated him beyond belief. He shuffled from the warmth of his bed and into the darkness. The boy shoved his door open, a growl hidden deeply in his throat. He slammed the heavy wooden door that led to his room forcefully. A small, black, sign fell from its perch and bounced against the cold floors. 'Mello' was written on it in golden calligraphy.

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><p>This is the very beginning of a story I'm using to help fend off writer's block! It was written in a horse stable with the greatest horse ever, feel honored. But, on a serious note, this won't be continued unless i get at least two reviews within the first week or so. It's pretty terrible, I know, so no huge flames please!<p>

Bullet holes and stitches OXOX

~Zombiekyller


	2. Chapter 2

She was young. Very young, thirteen at the most. Mello had expected someone far older, thinking it was a middle aged woman letting her fingers dance around on the keys. He let his blue eyes trail up and down her body. She was unhealthily thin to the point of being hardly more than a bundle of flesh and bone. Her fingers were gangly and slim yet muscled from years of practice. The girl was dressed in an oversized flannel shirt that had obviously been stolen from Roger's dresser. It was so large it hung from her bony shoulders like a dress. Her chest was extremely flat and the only factor to show she wasn't male was a distinctly feminine face.

Two sullen and pained red eyes surrounded by sleep deprived and darkened flesh lay in her head. But, strangely, they weren't protected by the thick lashes most were. Mello noticed the girl didn't have eyebrows either. He felt a slight pang of sympathy as he looked up at the child's head. She was bald. Her scalp was hairless and just slightly tinted with sunburn. Mello could tell just by looking at her that she had cancer. No wonder she was so tiny and sickly.

"Hello!" she piped, breaking from her silken singing voice into a much more childish one. Her glowering red eyes turned slowly onto Mello. "Who would you be?"

"Stop playing that goddamn piano." he said, disregarding her question and letting a deep growl slide from his throat. Mello slammed the fall of the piano down on her fingers. He figured that would discourage her enough and he turned on his heels to head back upstairs. But not even two steps later, the music floated into his pale ears again.

"That was rude... I'm sorry if my playing upsets you, but I won't stop! I spend my days in the hospital," the girl tugged back the huge flannel sleeve to reveal a shimmering metal bracelet with a small red cross on it. 'Cerdin Deeth' was engraved on its smooth surface, directly above the word 'Cancer'. Mello couldn't make out what else it said, but he didn't need to. He had all the information he needed. "And the piano is my only passion..."

"Stop." Mello sneered. "People are trying to sleep." He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt slither through his abdomen. The girl glanced up, her big scarlet eyes meeting his.

"No." she frowned again, this time far deeper than the last. It was obvious the girl didn't like saying no to things, but what choice did she have? Her fingers delicately switched from pre-fashioned melodies to what sounded like improvisations. They sounded a bit sad, solemn and sullen like she were illustrating her inner pain. But the stoic sounds quickly retreated into something much happier. Like a butterfly sipping nectar from a flower, wings gently swaying in the breeze. Cerdin, as her bracelet read, then slammed her fingers down on the keys as hard as she could to play out all her rage. This went on for a moment before making way for another bout of sadness and then for one joy and glee.

"Stop fucking playing that piano." Mello demanded. But Cerdin did not oblige. This angered the boy immensely. He didn't enjoy it when people disobeyed his orders. But, suddenly, a small beeping sound disrupted his angry thoughts. Cerdin reached down below the piano and pulled out a stuffed animal. It looked a bit like a giant gray potato with a flat tail and two rounded flippers. A small zipper sat on its belly, ready to be undone at any time. Cerdin pulled out a transparent orange vial of pills, placing two beneath her tongue while she continued the bittersweet melody with her other hand. They tasted terrible, but they helped coax her appetite a little without the side effects of medical marijuana which one of her doctors had suggested. He assured her it would do far more than the pills but Cerdin didn't believe it. She'd heard too many horror stories about how it can ruin your depth perception from old school teachers and strange advertisements. Cerdin couldn't lose any part of her eyesight, she needed that for piano. Not to mention that colors were her favorite part of life.

"I'm sorry... I could play something less happy and less sad, something you can fall asleep to. Roger tells me to play at night because music stimulates the brain while it's asleep. Isn't that fun?" the girl smiled at her feet.

"Fine, whatever, just keep it down..." Mello grunted. He didn't feel the need to exert anymore energy yelling at her. She nodded happily, overjoyed to be able to continue playing. Cerdin loved her piano more than life. It was her life. Mello turned on his heels and gripped the railing just above the stairs.

"Goodnight Mihael! I'll see you tomorrow!" she chimed from her perch. Her fingers moved across the keys to pound out a melody that wasn't too loud, and wasn't too soft, one that wasn't too happy, and wasn't too sad. And though she'd much rather be enjoying a tune that described her feelings, she was happy to oblige to Mello's request.

"Ha ha!" Mello let out another victorious laugh. He was the master of kickball; no one could ever oppose the team he played for. Not to mention he was trying to vent some of the anger from losing to Near again that morning. He wondered if it wasn't as much of a matter of sleep as it was a matter of studying. Though he had only lost to his rival by one point, which was better than he normally did. Mello paused to wonder if perhaps that strange girl, Cerdin or whatever her name was, had been correct in her thoughts. He had quite a few questions about their odd meeting the other night. The young blonde boy glanced out over a sea of hair and eyelashes to realize there was one who had neither.

She was sitting on a bench beneath dappled of sunlight with a small gray blob on her right side and a red haired boy on her left. A pair of large, brightly colored, stars hung from her ears with the obvious intention of distracting from her baldness. Instead of a giant flannel shirt she was adorned with a tight fitting, pale green, sundress with big white butterflies drifting down the sides. A book hung from her delicate fingers, reading 'The Genius of Amadeus' as the title. She also carried around a book filled with empty sheet music which she took out after a moment to fill in with a few newly imagined musical notes. But the most interesting thing about her wasn't her hairless scalp; it was the simple smile she seemed to always wear. One that showed innocence and happiness mixed with pain and discomfort. She opened her mouth quickly and the boy beside her nodded. His gloved fingers attacked the buttons of a handheld gaming device. Loud pings and zaps shot from its interior speakers and provided, surprisingly, many ideas for Cerdin's composing book.

"Thank you, Mail. Look out Mihael!" she cried, maintaining her seamless grin perfectly. Mello was about to scold her for using his real name when a large red ball slammed against his cheek viciously. Cerdin couldn't help but giggle from her stoop and, after realizing what had happened, was joined by Matt, the boy lying beside her. Mello sneered, not just at them but at the sender of the cushy sphere. He kicked it back so hard the catcher fell flat on his back, making little puffs of dust cascade out around him.

"Did you enjoy my playing last night?" Cerdin smiled after Mello made his way over to her. "I stopped at four so you could sleep more peacefully, after that I worked on my composing! I'm trying to get it done before the deadline..." she added the last bit almost solemnly. Her smile dissipated and she appeared to be thinking about something rather deeply. Cerdin pulled the book from beneath her thigh and started scribbling musical notes as fast as she could while still maintaining a good sound within her mind.

"Hey, Matt, why don't you come join the kickball game?" Mello inquired, completely disregarding Cerdin's question. Matt peered up from his Gameboy, a pair of large goggles placed tightly over his eyes.

"Fuck that. Boss level." he replied. Four words seemed to be all he needed to explain himself and his reason for not enjoying the warm, summery, day.

"Ignoring me won't get you anywhere Mihael!" Cerdin growled. She slammed the book shut, letting a few pages drift off carelessly. They fluttered and twisted in the wind like part of an intricate ballet, getting stuck in the confines of a wooden fence after their short bout of pirouettes. The girl found it hard not to follow after her studiously composed papers as they floated away in the breeze. But her will was strong to make a lasting impression on Mello. He was, after all, one of the smartest boys at Whammy's. Cerdin picked herself up along with her books and stormed away. "Whether you like it or not, I'm a part of your life now!"

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><p>Okay~! I got three reviews already so here's the next chapter in this series. I'll be doing the timeskip before too long. Tell me if you think I'm doing well on Mello's character. Sorry for the mysterious nature of the beginning, it'll be clearer soon. Please, please, please, tell me what you think!<p>

Bullet holes and stitches OXOX

~Zombiekyller


	3. Chapter 3

Mello stared out the window solemnly, glaring at the rainy sky with unblinking intent. Only minutes ago it had been warm and sunny, the calm before the storm had shown no signs of its true meaning. Which meant all the children, even the ones who had stayed out in the dark so they could continue playing, had trickled out of the great room and into their own quarters. No one enjoyed rain during the summer except for whoever happened to be left out in the weather. Mello happened to be staring at a strange boy who had rushed outside the second it began to pour and was now dancing about gleefully. He wondered who in their right mind would dance in the rain just because. Mello figured if he gave the subject enough thought he'd be able to find a reason, but his mind was clouded with thoughts of Cerdin. She was so peculiar with her simple smile and upbeat attitude. Though Mello was mainly pondering what she meant about being a part of his life and why she hadn't been at Whammy's for a week.

He turned away from the window in time to see Roger herd the child out of the rain and help them inside. Mello began poking through a large textbook with material for his next test. The heavy oaken double doors slammed loudly behind Roger and whoever he had corralled out of the storm.

"Put on something warm and go play in the great room. Finish your composing later tonight if you could. Oh, and don't forget to do your improvisations on the violin and if it's not too late, practice on the clarinet." Roger's calm voice sidled through the worn wood of his home to sink into Mello's ears. Only one child at the orphanage was writing music at such a young age. Cerdin must have returned to Whammy's. She also must have been that strange child dancing in the rain.

"Okay! Thank you Roger." Cerdin's innocent and high pitched voice rang through the corridors. It was followed by the sound of bare feet slapping against lacquered wooden floors. Cerdin headed straight for the great room, too excited to start playing to change out of the wet sundress she was in despite there being no sun. The girl's feet were caught by a few folds in one of the many rugs and she went tumbling onto the ground. A waterlogged straw hat flew off her head and dripped water in the expensive carpet while a wail of pain split the night.

Mello turned his gaze to the small girl to see most of the pale skin had been torn from her knees. Cerdin was biting her thumb in agony and let a single tear dribble down her soft face. She was trying desperately not to make a sound. If Roger cam down she'd burst into tears with embarrassment due to feeling she always had to be perfect around him. Mello let a little grunt escape from behind clenched teeth as he strode from the room. Cerdin felt terrible now. She'd made Mello mad last week and now he wouldn't help her. Why did she have to love playing so much? Why couldn't she just be a normal girl? Cerdin started to wonder if everyone would abandon her like her parents had. Would she ever make a friend that didn't leave her for heaven a few months later? The girl figured there was no reason to hide her tears now, as no one would be coming back for her. She burst into a flurry of frantic whimpers and hysteric bawling. Cerdin buried her head in the now blood stained carpet and cried for what seemed like hours on end.

"Here." Mello grumbled, holding a bandage and a small adhesive pad out towards the girl. Cerdin pricked her head up and grinned. Maybe someone cared about her, even if it was just a little bit. She stuck her legs out and watched as the blonde boy helped clean them up and wrap a bandage around them. After he'd finished, Cerdin threw her arms around his neck with a happy tear in her eye.

"Thank you Mihael! You truly are nice!" she chirped. Mello pushed her off of him with a sneer. He hated to admit it, but he liked being hugged. None of the orphans got very much physical attention so being touched kindly was pleasant for them. Cerdin raced over to the piano as fast as she could, not bothering to change her clothing as Roger had instructed. Mello sighed and pulled his textbook shut. He wouldn't be able to focus much on reading if the cancerous pianist began playing. But she did. Her fingers drifted across the keys with such precision and excellence it was scary. She was a painter. The piano was a brush, that of the finest materials money could buy, and her voice was the paint, luxurious and thick yet sweet and soft. Cerdin was truly a prodigy. Perhaps not in the way most Whammy kids were but, none the less, a genius. Mello found it increasingly sad that she was as sick as she was. Someone who didn't have to worry about tumors and Chemotherapy would probably have a much easier time composing things and focusing on being a musician. Yet, Cerdin wrote notes like they were nothing but letters and managed to play the piano better than most adults. "Will you be listening personally to my music? Or shall I play quietly again so you can sleep?"

"Neither." he grumbled, heading off to bed.


End file.
